


Minnesotan in New York

by shutterbug



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Adoption, Dog - Freeform, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, pup - Freeform, puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutterbug/pseuds/shutterbug
Summary: Tom adopts a new buddy.





	Minnesotan in New York

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little ficlet. Don't expect much. I didn't even write a second draft. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and comments. <3

There was this song—by Sting, or the Police, he wasn’t sure—that spoke to him. _ Englishman in New York_. That was the title. He was pretty sure, anyway. 

But, you know what? Even if it wasn’t, he didn’t care all that much. Because, at that moment, Tom was staring into the chocolate-rich brown eyes of a Black Labrador puppy. A hopeful puppy. His tail—well, Tom was relatively sure it was a ‘he’—oscillated from side to side, like a metronome. 

With that first look, Tom knew he needed this puppy. 

His mother had planted the seeds a few weeks ago. “Tom, you’re alone,” she’d said. “Maybe you should think about getting a dog.” 

So he’d thought about it. Then he’d perused the local shelters. He wasn’t about to find a breeder—no. He wanted a rescue dog. He was sure of that. 

Then this little pup turned up. Surrendered anonymously. He wanted a Lab. Any color would do. But he wanted a Lab. A loyal companion. Someone he could play fetch with, someone who would lay his head on his lap at the end of the day, as if to say, “Hey, buddy, how’d it go today?” Something nobody else ever did for him. 

He’d spoken with a friendly woman at the shelter, who had told him that she would call him when a dog of his specification arrived at the shelter. Then: wha-la! He appeared. This little puppy. 

Black and meek and scared. 

Like him. 

Well, not so much the “black” part. But meek and scared? Definitely. 

“I’ll take him,” Tom said to the shelter volunteer. And then, an hour later, Tom cradled a tiny black-furred puppy in one arm, grasping a bag full of supplies in the other, and rode the elevator to the fifth floor. After an elaborate battle with his key ring, he located his apartment key, opened the door, and let the puppy loose. 

Tom watched the puppy leap from the floor to the couch, from the couch to the side table, from the table to a lamp—_ that _, he could hardly believe. But there he was—that little Black Lab, its back legs hidden by the lampshade and its front sticking out of the top, along with half its body. 

With a smile, Tom scooped him up and carried him back to the couch. The dog settled on his lap—all on its own—and Tom dialed his mother.

“I adopted a dog,” he said, even before he said ‘hello,’ quite the break from Mid-West decorum.

His Mom didn’t seem to mind. “You did!? That’s great to hear!” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“That’s really wonderful, sweetie. I was so worried about you.” 

“Well, now you don’t need to be worried about me.” 

A long silence stretched across time zones. Finally, his mother said, “I really hope that’s true, Tommy. Does he have a name?”

Tom rubbed the crown of his new puppy’s head. “Yeah,” he said, with an affectionate smile. “Mondale. I’m calling him Mondale. A little nod to home, you know?”

“Aww!” His mother’s shriek of approval leaped into his ear. It was as if a warm blanket wrapped itself around him. 

He wanted to keep it there. He wanted to hold on to that warmth. That closeness. He gathered his puppy into his arms and hugged him. 

Mondale, newly named, licked his cheek. 

Tom smiled, then buried the tip of his nose into the fur between Mondale’s ears. 

Four days later, Tom met Shiv Roy. And Mondale stayed penned up in Tom’s apartment for three straight days. 


End file.
